


Anywhere and Everywhere

by CrossGenesis



Category: Transformers
Genre: Angst, Conjunx Ritus, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:55:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24717886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrossGenesis/pseuds/CrossGenesis
Summary: Rodimus knew deep in his spark that it was always Drift.Whether it was during their separation when Drift had been banished, or whether it was during their carefree nights after the war and before the Lost Light, or whether it was on the day of the Conjunx Ritus.Rodimus knew it deep down in his spark...and at some point, Drift knew it too.
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock / Rodimus, Drift | Deadlock / Rodimus | Hot Rod, Drift | Deadlock/Ratchet, Optimus Prime / Ratchet
Comments: 5
Kudos: 27





	Anywhere and Everywhere

**But what if I never get over you?**

**What if I continue to wake up everyday and want you with me with every waking moment?**

**What if I keep waiting for you to come through that door?**

**Or to receive a letter signed with your name?**

**Or for any sign from above?**

**But-**

“Rodimus, have you been listening?”

Ratchet’s voice echoed in the thick walls of the captain’s quarters. Delivering a report regarding the supposedly disposed and very much illegal merchandise Whirl and Brainstorm has acquired in their latest landing on some distant planet and how their small trips leads them nowhere nearer the true intention of their quest – _ or some similar problem that Rodimus just choose to ignore. _

“Yeah” his vocalizer seemed to require a resetting, his words came out somewhat disoriented, distracted-  _ distant. _ “Illegal Decepticon Guns from war, yeah. It’s bad. I’ll talk to Whirl about it”

The medic took a seat across his desk. Looking straight at his captain who had not even bothered to look up from the datapad he was reading – or writing on. Ratchet gently put his servos on the desk, thankfully getting a few moments of attention from Rodimus.

“Is there something else? Any more problems I can ignore?” the red mech asked.

“How about your favorite one?” Ratchet reached out to the datapad Rodimus deemed to be more important than the safety and security of his ship and crew, but the captain’s reflexes were faster and dragged the datapad out of Ratchet’s list.

Ratchet reached once more and Rodimus placed it on his lap. A place he knows Ratchet would not dare reach for any longer.

“He’s your best friend”

“Yeah, he is” Rodimus barked, clearly offended “Meaning its harder for me to stomach what I did. What I had to do”

“Then let’s go looking for him” Ratchet was now towering over the captain

_ Let’s go. Turn this ship around. Find him in whatever galaxy he is. Bring him home. Bring him back. _

“It’s not that simple, Doc”

Ratchet slammed his fist on his messy table. Hoping to wake some sense into his captain’s thick helm. Hoping that if he speaks his language of violence,  _ he’d understand. _ “And you don’t do complicated, right? Always the easiest way. No matter how risky it was. Blown up anything else besides Drift or Nyo-“

The medic did not have anytime to collect himself when he realized that Rodimus launched from across the table, tackle Ratchet to the ground and dangerously hold a blade against one neck cable that would make a messy pool of energon on the floor if Rodimus do as much as so press.  _ He didn’t know what he had to do. He didn’t know how much he regretted blowing up his home in the early days of war. He wasn’t there. He didn’t know. Like how he doesn’t know how much it pains Rodimus to be reminded of another decision he long regrets. _ “You don’t know”

“I know, captain” Ratchet breathed, easing away the blade on his neck cables. Rodimus offered no resistance.  _ He wouldn’t kill Ratchet. He’s not going to add up to the lives taken by his recklessness _ . “I know that no matter how much you try. You’ll never care for anyone else more than you care for yourself. He doesn’t deserve you”

Ratchet was now on his pedes and making his way out of the office. He didn’t spare another glance at Rodimus who was now looking for the datapad he was writing on earlier. Now also lost in the mess of a desk he has. He placed the sword he kept under his desk unceremoniously on the stacks of reports and other personal belongings. The sword Drift lent him during their free time when the swordmech wuld teach him how to handle it properly. The sword Drift treated with  _ reverence _ , equal reverence as how he’d treat the Great Sword or the Matrix or any other Primal relic. Ratchet didn’t spare another glance when the door hissed open and said “You don’t deserve that either”

_ You don’t deserve that either. _

The words etched to Rodimus like a scar. Rodimus didn’t believe in ‘ _ deserve’ _ , he didn’t believe in a lot of things but he believed in the cause he’s fought for the last four million years, he believed in the hope that the Knights of Cybertron would bring order to the mess in Cybertron, he believed in Drift. And Drift believed in him.  _ He believed in them. Us. _

_ He didn’t believe that he deserved Drift, and Drift believed in that too. _

“You listening, Hot Shot?”

Rodimus looked up to the white mech that was half-drunk in engex, half-high in circuit boosters, and completely messed up on the balcony in their shared quarters in New Iacon.

“Prowl would arrest you for that” the red mech giggled, taking the nearly fried booster off of Drift’s servos and pinching it down the floor to rid of its last charges.

“Don’t be a prude” miraculously pouring another batch of engex for both of them and not spilling a drop. Drift didn’t bother handing Rodimus’ cube to him before taking his down in one shot. “It’s a festival after all”

_ The Festival of the Lost Light. _

They both could see the lanterns that were still being ignited from the festival grounds and floated into the clear Cybertronian skies. The sky that was now free of any missiles launching down to kill whatever part of the planet they’d land on. Free of any blasters or warships. Free of a war that destroyed it. Once the smoke that filled the air was those coming from fired ammunition or ships crashing down, now Rodimus could only smell the cloud of smoke Drift was ex-venting with another stick of circuit booster in between his lip plates. Rodimus didn’t bother scolding him.  _ It’s a festival after all. _

“I’m no Prowl’ Drift said in a struggle as he laid on his back on the cold floor of their balcony. Putting the buildings of New Iacon out of his frame of sight and only looking at the lanterns lighting up the skies. Like how Earth would light up in their distant stars.  _ Or so Rodimus said _ . He blew another cloud of ozone and smoke unto their skies “But they said if every Cybertronian alive right now lit up  _ atleast _ ten of those lanterns…it wouldn’t be enough to equal the lives taken by our war”

Rodimus noticed the change of tone in Drift’s last words.  _ Guilt _ . If only his spark would speak for itself, the ex-Decepticon knows that what he truly wanted to say was that he was one of reason the death toll sky-rocketed that much.  _ He was responsible for a large fraction on those lanterns he looks at up right now. _

The autobot laid down with Drift, now looking up to the view the white mech could not pry his forlorn optics off. “You ever been to Hedonia?” Rodimus asked.

“That was a protected sector in the war, we didn’t-”

“No, I mean-” Rodimus took the shot of engex Drift poured for him earlier, then looked over Drift, lifting his frame on the elbow nearest to the other mech. “I mean travel. Not go in a warship then be sent to combat and war fronts or get in an escape pod and land somewhere.  _ Really  _ travel. Go off to some part of the galaxy to relax, find new organics, mechanicals, cyber-organics. Slag like that”

Drift put his half-fried booster in between his lip plates once again. Turning to the cubes and engex set between he and Rodimus who still had not stopped talking about traveling, setting sail to the stars,  _ leaving it all away. _

“-what do you say?”

“Hn?”

“Let’s take off. A fresh start” Rodimus snatched the booster in between Drift’s lip plates and took one, long invent. Shuttering his optics in a flicker as he felt the potency of the circuit booster.  _ He forgot that his best friend was an addict while he was just a user.  _ Rodimus put the booster down and took a swig from the bottle Drift had poured out from. Nearly draining the bottle dry. “I want to travel the universe, Drift. You and me, anywhere and everywhere, what do you say?”

_ You and me? _

_ “  _ Yes”

It didn’t even take a klik for Drift to decide.  _ Yes. Yes, I’d go anywhere as long as it’s with you. _

The excitement burned in Rodimus’ optics, along with the slurs in his words of anticipation and vigor. The red mech poured the last of the engex into their cubes and stumbled up to his knees. Dragging Drift to the edge of the balcony where they’d have a better view of New Iacon. Looking over on their knees like the sparkling they wished they were.

Rodimus pointed at the docking sector where a number of ships were landing at a steady rate. “I’d want a big ship. If we can’t afford it, I don’t mind a smaller one. Enough to fit two atleast”

“Just two?” Drift giggled, feeling the effects of the booster he retrieved from Rodimus’ servos and took the last of its charges.  _ Taking the last pushes of courage he could muster. _

“Yeah, you and me” Rodimus raised his cube to Drift, waiting for Drift to raise his. They clicked the edges of the cubes and took it all in one shot.  _ The last push of courage he could muster _ “I’d take everyone but my ship’s not taking off without you in it”

_ You and me. _

Whether it was the potent circuit boosters they did not usually take, or the high-grade medical engex they did not usually indulge, or the feeling of freedom and carelessness they could not usually afford, or just the promise that it would be just them and the universe.  _ Drift took it all. _

“You and me”

Drift whispered with circuits clouded, intake reeking of smoke and engex, and face closer to Rodimus. The white mech took his helm with one servo then two. Placing their foreheads together and offlining his optics.

Rodimus giggled. Half-drunk in engex, half-high in circuit boosters, and completely messed up. Rodimus liked looking at Drift like this; his optics offlined and his entire frame relaxed. He liked how there is one person who trusts him enough to find peace in his arms. Like how his people in Nyon found a sanctuary in him. Of all the mechs Rodimus had met, Drift reminds him most of Nyon. _A place most you’d deem a lost cause, but Rodimus would say to be a fresh start._ A flicker of hope. He liked it when Drift does this –it was debatable whether or not he liked what Drift did next.

The ex-decepticon usually would not online his optics until he’d feel Rodimus take him to a berth or somewhere comfortable where he could rest and recharge. This time he did, and saw the peaceful blue optics staring straight to his own. As if Rodimus was examining every part of him, memorizing every screw, every crevice, and every line. Looking at him with such familiarity and awe, as if he was something he had for a long time for the first time.  _ As if he was home. _

Drift lowered one of his servos to catch Rodimus’ chin, his optics trailing down to Rodimus’ lip plates before offlining them. Feeling his spark pulse and his entire frame tremble in all the emotions he’s feeling at that moment. And in that moment he also realized.  _ Rodimus doesn’t have a home. _

The red mech pulled his helm away and pushed Drift by his chest gently away from him. The peace in Rodimus’ optics changed to a different hue.  _ Guilt. _

“Let’s not go there”

Rodimus stood up from the balcony and rushed inside their shared hab suite. Drift heard the door hissing open and a rev on the streets, then saw a streak of red and orange driving far away.

_ Let’s not go there. _

Turns out  _ anywhere and everywhere  _ did not include a place in his spark, only in his life.

**But what if I never get over you?**

**What if I continue to wake up everyday and want you with me with every waking moment? What if I keep waiting for you to come through that door? Or to receive a letter signed with your name? Or for any sign from above? But it never happens. It never comes.**

The Lost Light finally landed back on Cybertron. After proving a few of their Primal Prophecies and legends to just be stuff of stories that were greatly exaggerated and recklessly passed down, after defeating a planet-sized Big Bad with their own planet’s Big Bad, after they had travelled the universe and found home in the ship and in those people who they shared the ship with, after another flicker of chance and hope that somewhere out in another reality and life, they’re happy and they never had to come back. Rodimus was back on Cybertron.

And it was bad. Megatron was immediately put to trial just moments after they had their last lap. One by one, he watched his entire crew –his family- walk farther and farther away from their that was now being torn to pieces and its engines be used for other, more practical use other than serving as a home to those who lost theirs and cannot lie to themselves any longer, convincing that the old Cybertron was still their home.

If anything came out good after the Lost Light had landed, it was maybe the Conjunx Ritus.

They’d wanted to have it in the Lost Light, then have the reception at Swerve’s bar with everyone. All their friends, all their family. Gathered in the ship they called home.

Unfortunately, it was the friends and family part that got stuck. But the ceremony was nonetheless pleasant. Even Whirl had to admit it was pleasant.

Drift was magnificent. His white ceremonial robe drapped over his shoulders, his hilt free of any sword but the Great Sword that stands proudly on its hilt, taking the place of a mech everyone knew Drift would want more than anything to be here with him- his mentor and his first Conjunx, Wing. Walking through the half-circle that closes in the crowd and leads towards the Primal Altar where Alpha Trion was waiting to conduct the rites. The other half-circle was paved by his Conjunx-to-be, he had no robes to adorn himself with, he didn’t want those pleasantries and the extravagances of a Spectralist Ritus. Ratchet was too old for it.

Rodimus stood behind Trion, beside Optimus Prime. As the living Primes, they would have conducted the rites. But because Optimus was Ratchet’s former Conjunx –which was only valid until Optimus’ death, first and not-final death- Prime thought it would not be right. Rodimus refused to conduct the rites because –he refuses to.

_ Because he might mess it up since he’s never conducted a rite. Because he might need a script and it’s embarrassing to mess up in front of a crowd larger than a people in their ship. Because he might take the vows himself to conjunx Drift.  _ Because…

“You with me, Rodimus?”

Ultra Magnus snapped him out of his deep dive into his processors. The former captain and second-in-command were sitting together in the reception. Drift and Ratchet had a lot of mechs to shake hands with and bid their gratitude to.  _ Drift and Ratchet.  _ And all these time he thought it’s be  _ Drift and Rodimus. You and me. Anywhere and Everywhere. _

“Yeah” his vocalizer seemed to require a resetting, his words came out somewhat disoriented, distracted-  _ distant.  _ “Thunderclash’s crew. More travelling up in the stars. Totally into it”

The larger mech placed his energon cube down the table and sternly looked at Rodimus who was not taking his sight out of the new Conjunxes across the reception.

Ultra Magnus cleared his vocalizer before taking the high-grade Rodimus was planning on swigging down in one go. It was his fourth or fifth cube.  _ It was the last string of sanity he could hold on to.  _ “If there’s anything in my capabilities to make you happy, captain. I-”

Rodimus giggled. Half-drunk in engex, half-drowned in jealousy, and completely messed up.  _ He messed up.  _ “I am happy. I am happy for them. Look at me, Mags. I am happy-”

The red mech stood up from their seats, repeating slurred versions of “I am happy! I’m fine! I can have one more cube” Ultra Magnus was quick to catch him and guide him through a crowd that was also drowned in a few too much cubes of engex. The larger mech led him out of the reception and into a balcony where Rodimus could use a bit of atmosphere to rid of the clamped up heat in his frame and hopefully,  _ the aching burn in his spark. _

“I am happy, Mags. Really, I am”

Rodimus giggled.

“Look at me. Would you choose me over some very educated mech that’s best friends with Optimus Prime. A really great doctor that makes Adaptus jealous, yeah! Guiding Hand Adaptus! Sure, I carried the Matrix once. But Ratchet, he-he saved Drift. He saved my world. My universe…my Drift. He-He caught my Drift, get it?!”

Rodimus giggled. Half-drowned in insecurity, half-high in self-pity, and completely messed up.

“Mags, would you choose me?”

It took a few kliks for Rodimus to get a hold of his uneven vents, and a few more to wipe the fluids flooding out his optics. Ultra Magnus insisted that he’d helped him to wherever he was driving to. But a few crazy nights in the same balcony where they are now, with a few bottles of engex with a hgher grade than what he’d taken that night and a few potent circuit boosters, proves to be a good practice session for nights like thses.

Ultra Magnus insisted on helping Rodimus but his captain further insisted that  _ he shouldn’t go there _ .

Rodimus bid his congratulations to the pair, whispered the same words he did a few cycles back to the good doctor.  _ Take care of him, doc. He’s a keeper.  _ Then turned his helm to Drift.

The red mech took his helm with one servo then two. Placing their foreheads together and offlining his optics. Giggling at the familiarity of the gesture and hiding away the every aching burn in his spark. Rodimus withdrew his helm first and marveled at his face he’d only seen once. A face that was full of hope, of peace, and of love. Love that was once his. Love that he didn’t take. Love he thoroughly messed up. Rodimus was examining every part of him, memorizing every screw, every crevice, and every line. Looking at him with such familiarity and awe, as if he was something he had for a long time for the first time.  _ A conjunx… _ or whatever they would have been if Rodimus brake, steered the wheel and drove the other way.

The red mech gave a set of keys to Drift, “It’s not the Rodpod but I think a shuttle would be useful for you two”

“If it was the Rodpod, I think my patients would rather be offlined than get in it” Ratchet snarked, but clearly grateful of the gift.

The gift that was waiting out the reception, a red and orange non-sentient ambulance shuttle with two small berths on either side for Ratchet’s patients, a set of machines Rodimus asked Perceptor and Nautica to install because he genuinely believes Brainstorm would install some grand machinery in the humble vehicle, and a broken data pad on the street it was parked on, stopped over either by the multitude of mechs that walked and drove by the pavement or by the short-lived owner of the ambulance shuttle when he contemplated whether or not his words would matter to Drift, whether his words would ignite a familiar burn of jealousy in Ratcher, like the one he’s feeling now.

He looked at the data pad for the last time…for the thousandth time.

**But what if I never get over you?**

**What if I continue to wake up everyday and want you with me with every waking moment? What if I keep waiting for you to come through that door? Or to receive a letter signed with your name? Or for any sign from above? But it never happens. It never comes.**

**You never came back.**

**What if you were the one; but I was not…**


End file.
